


Coral Crush

by dietplainlite



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drugs, Drugs mention, F/M, First Meeting, Origin Story, Sherlolly - Freeform, Teen lock, Teenlock, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly meets a strange new character at her first job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coral Crush

Some days, Molly absolutely cursed technology.  As her CD skipped through the chorus, she thought longingly of her old cassette Walkman shoved somewhere in the back of her closet, along with her case of tapes.  She’d actually love to listen to a good mix right now, instead of limping through this Placebo CD.

She pulled the headphones off and let them hang around her neck as she closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders.  It had been a busy week, and she still had coursework to do as soon as she finished Mrs. Aberdeen’s makeup.

It was just the two of them in the quiet room.  Molly studied the woman’s face and the photo she’d been given as a guide. Mrs. Aberdeen was naturally beautiful. An English rose. The natural look in the photo would suit her well. Nude eyeshadows, a coral lip, and just a bit of pink blush.  The biggest challenge would be getting the foundation right, seeing as how Mrs. Aberdeen had gone quite cyanotic.

“I’ve got a nice blue neutralizer around here somewhere,” Molly said to the still form on the slab as she rummaged through her makeup case. She found the pot and a clean brush and began setting all of her tools and colors on the tray next to the slab. She turned to grab a spray bottle and gasped as she nearly collided with someone.

He was tall, thin and pale.  He looked more annoyed than apologetic at having startled her. She was usually well aware when someone entered the room, but this man—no, boy, she amended, taking in his grey school sweater and striped tie—had come in so stealthily that she wondered momentarily if he was a ghost.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t possibly believe in ghosts, working here, alone all the time. “

Looked like she’d be waiting forever for any kind of apology.  He was certainly unpleasant, even if he was gloriously fit.

“Not necessarily,” she said, tearing her gaze away from his catlike blue eyes. “Believing in them doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of them.  Not that I do.  But, excuse me, but who are you?   Even if you’re a relative it’s not really—“

“Not a relative.  Mrs. Aberdeen is a classmate’s mum.  Thinks there’s something “off” about her death. I presume he’s just in denial but he offered to do my History of the Monarchy coursework for a month so, here I am.”

During this speech, he’d moved closer to the body, hovering on the other side of the slab with his hands behind his back.  Suddenly, he reached toward the sheet covering the body.  Without thinking, Molly smacked him with the large powder brush in her hand.

“The hell?” he said, drawing back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“Examining the body.”

“You’ve no right to even be in this room much less touching this body.  Have some respect!  And…and decency!”  She stepped over to the phone mounted on the wall.  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I shall call the police.”

“No!” he said.  His eyes softened as he scanned her face.  “You know, black lipstick is an odd choice but it suits you, somehow. And the black hair. Likely far better than your natural color.”

Molly gaped at him for a full five seconds.  “Unbelievable,” she said, finally, before picking up the phone.

“Shit,” the boy said.  “Please don’t.  Please.”

This time he looked slightly more sincere, hands in his pockets as he looked at her from under his unruly fringe. 

“If I help you, you’re going to have to give me more information than your friend wanted you to look into it.”

“He’s not my friend. He’s a classmate.”

“Okay, your classmate.  Why does he think her death is suspicious?”

“She was a healthy 38 year old woman who dropped dead in her yoga class. Went into child’s pose at the end of class and never got up.”

“Healthy _teenagers_ die of cardiomyopathy all the time.  38 is a bit young for a heart attack, but not unheard of. Plus, she could have been experiencing symptoms, just didn’t realize what they were.  They present differently in women.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  She might not have felt any chest pressure, just some pain in her back, jaw, maybe shortness of breath or lightheadedness.  She may have attributed it to the exercise.”

“Hmm.” He put his hands together and rested his chin on the fingertips.  He had quite elegant hands.

“Or someone could have put poison on her mat and she absorbed it through her feet.”

“Really?”

Molly almost laughed at the way his eyes lit up.  He’d looked downright disappointed before she’d mentioned the possibility of poison.

She shook her head.  “No.  Poisoning rarely causes a quiet death.  It can be gruesome, actually.”

“Of course,” he said, crestfallen.

 “Is there any other reason your—classmate suspects foul play?”

The boy waved his hand.  “The usual.  Younger stepfather with little money of his own.  Like I said, I wouldn’t have bothered if it weren’t for the coursework.”

“Well you know,” Molly said as she moved back around to Mrs. Aberdeen’s head, studying her and the photo her family had provided.  “They did perform an autopsy.”

“What?”

“Of course.”  She pulled the sheet back just enough for the visitor to see the top of the Y-incision. “Young woman dropping dead like that? Toxicology isn’t back yet but if they’d found anything unusual elsewhere we probably wouldn’t have her here yet.”

“Oh.”

“They probably didn’t tell the boy.  And I don’t really know what good a deal you got out of this, anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’ll likely get a lot of time off, and he might not even be up to doing his own work when he gets back.”

“How do you know?”

“I just…”  She shrugged.  “It’s just how it goes, a lot.  Takes a while to get back into things.”

“Hmm.” He stared at her intently. It was unnerving. Made her lose her train of thought.

“So, erm, I really do need to get back to Mrs. Aberdeen’s makeup.  Her viewing is this afternoon.”

“Right,” he said, but didn’t move.  

Molly pulled several lipsticks from the makeup bag the deceased’s family had sent over. “Did you need anything else?”

“How did you know all of that?”

“About the poison, or the heart attacks?”

“All of it”

“Oh. Pick up a lot of things working here, and I pay attention in class.”

“So you’re not just morbidly interested in the dead?”

“Maybe a bit,” she said, wrinkling her nose.  “I don’t know.  It’s mostly just quiet.”

“Yet you listen to music while you work.”

“Yes but not to like, drown anything out I guess. I don’t know really. I’m only here three afternoons a week. “

“Hmm.”

“So erm.  I really do usually work alone unless it’s super difficult. But usually I’m just observing then. I only do the makeup. I don’t do any reconstruction or major cover up. You have to have special training.” 

As she spoke, she pulled the lid off a gold tube of lipstick marked “Coral Crush.”  Instead of revealing the lipstick, a small glass vial fell out of the tube and to the floor. Luckily, it landed on the nonslip mat instead of the concrete floor.

“Oh,” they said simultaneously.

“Don’t touch it!” Molly said as he stooped to pick it up.  “Here, I’ve got gloves.”

 She pulled the gloves onto shaky hands, retrieved the vial and held it up to the light.  Instead of a fine powder, it contained several yellowish chunks, almost like little pieces of soap.  She put the vial onto the tray and dug into the makeup bag again.  At the bottom, wrapped in tissue, were a smoke stained glass tube and a bright green cigarette lighter. The boy had moved beside her and she looked up at him.  He smelled of peppermint and cigarettes. She was certain she smelled of formaldehyde and death.  Fantastic.

“Well, I suppose you won’t need those toxicology results. Not that you would actually be able to see them but you know, her son will.  And all.”  She pressed her lips together, willing herself to shut up.

He sighed. “Yeah”

“I really do have to call the police now. Or at least my boss.”

“What?”

“About this.  Even if her death wasn’t drug related I have to turn this in.”

“Oh.”

“So you have to go.  Or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh!  Yes of course.”  He turned to go, then turned back around.  “Sherlock, by the way.  Holmes.”

“Molly Hooper,” she replied, pointing to her nametag.

“So I gathered.”  He shuffled in the doorway for another moment, then cleared his throat. 

“Forgot something?”

“No. Erm.  I just.”  He looked down, and when he looked back up, his face had closed off.  He suddenly looked older, and slightly…dangerous.  “Nothing.  Good day, Molly Hooper.”

“Nice meeting you,” she said to his retreating back.  She stared at the doorway for a few more moments, half wishing he’d come back, half fearful he would. When she heard the front door close, she shook her head and went to the phone.  Poor Mrs. Aberdeen’s makeup would have to wait.


End file.
